


Corner Pocket

by shifter_goddess



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Gen, i grew up with one in my house what can I say, moved this over from ff.net, um also there is pool involved in all of these
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shifter_goddess/pseuds/shifter_goddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing quite so satisfying as sinking a called shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Games

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon for Scott: He's really, really good at pool. Mostly because he's really good at figuring out angles and pressure, but also he used to play a lot, before Charles picked him off the streets.
> 
> I also have no idea if Remy's French is used in the right context or anything, so correct me if I got it wrong - please.

"Daaaaang, Summers, I didn't know you kicked ass!", says Evan, suitably impressed, as Scott stares across the table at Logan, who only raises an eyebrow in return.

"Yeah, well, I haven't played in years.", the tall man says, brushing it off with a light laugh, reaching in with long fingers to pull the pool balls nearest him out, rolling towards the opposite end of the table, where the cue has been set up again by the shorter Logan, whose cigar smoke was floating around the room.

"I didn'n know y' played at all, _homme_.", says Remy, and his voice is amused and taunting; a challenge, for which Logan resignedly hands over his pool stick - in lieu of using his now-free hand to grab a beer from the kitchen, for which none of them are surprised. Smoke, blue and ethereal and smelling faintly of cherry-wood, trails behind the Canadian as he skulks out of the room.

"I haven't played since - actually, I don't really remember. I don't think we've had a pool table in here since before I came...", Scott replies, looking a little surprised and slightly amused at that fact. Of everything not to have, it is surprising that someone like Xavier never obtained a pool table for his students and staff. Not for himself, of course, since Scott doesn't think he's ever know the Professor to have played anything _but_ chess, and yet.

Although he tried to brush it off, Scott supposed that muscle memory and friendly rivalry couldn't be helped - he and Remy played, and played again; ending, finally, in a tie, to be continued whenever Scott supposed that he wasn't off chasing after Rogues' skirts.


	2. Philosophy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now it's Kurt and Scott's turn to shoot. And perhaps have a friendly little argument.

Kurt blinks at Scott across the pool table, and the long haired man looks back, eyebrow raising in retaliation.

"You believe in God?", the older male says, and Kurt can hear the surprise - and scoff - that colors his voice. The others in the room can hear it as well, Kurt notices, and a few pause to listen, none looking directly at the two.

"Yes, of course. You do not?", the teleporter replied, genuinely as shocked as his apparently faithless friend was.

The squint on Scott's face - it's the way he quirks his eyebrow, mostly, that tells anybody who knows him that it's a squint and not some other vague emotion - is one of sour disbelief. "Well, no. I mean, why should I?", he asks, shaking his head, bangs moving slightly at the motion.

" _'Why should you'_?", Kurt repeats, his own eyebrows raising in surprise. "Why _not_? You of all people should have faith in the Lord, Scott - look at what he's _done_ for you!", the blue male responds, arms spread, three fingers not-quite-widely held apart, heading to encompass and indicate the mansion; or, more tellingly, the people within.

"Done _for_ me?" And the laugh that his leader emits is almost unnerving in it's bitterness. "Don't you mean done _to_ me?" And he doesn't need to tap on the side of his visor to get the meaning across, but he does anyway, because that's just what he _does_ , and leans forward a little - unaware that the shadows and light make his visor (for a split second that gives Kurt Wagner the chills) flash cherry-bomb red.

"Whatever it is that has happened, he has still given you all of this, has he not?", the German student pressed, motioning in a tight circle with his out held hands before dropping them back down to his side, determined - in his faith, he is resolute.

There is the air of barely concealed derisive snort from Scott - but he just shakes his head, instead. He could argue in circles, till his face was as blue as his teammates, and yet Kurt, he knew, would have an answer for every little thing he managed to throw at him.

"Alright, alright. I concede; my life isn't horrible right this instant.", the tall male said, raising his hands, palms out, in a surrendering gesture. "But I still don't think it has anything to do with God. Luck, maybe.", he added, heading nodding slightly in lieu of a shoulder shrug.

"The only sure thing about _luck_ is that it will change.", murmured the teleporter in reply, leaning casually against the table, lips twitching as his competitor relaxed, and couldn't help but break the ice;

"Now, speaking of luck, isn't it your shot...?"


End file.
